


Enhance Ability, Sacred Flame

by labhazard



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: -Ish, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Deviates From Canon, Gen, Liches, merle does get hurt and that's on me my bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 14:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21056252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labhazard/pseuds/labhazard
Summary: Merle becomes a lich. It kinda hurts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey folks before we get into the angst lemme tell you I knew I wanted to name this after a cleric spell and looking at the list the urge to just name it "tongues" or something was a real struggle for me, personally  
Enjoy!

It was cycle 51. 52? Merle had stopped keeping track. It was a nice planet, mostly composed of these big, sprawling flower fields that he'd taken a shine to. He rarely slept at the ship anymore, preferring to sleep out under the moons, elements be damned. The others made fun of him for it, of course they did, but he shrugged it off. He loved them, after all, and after the last run of losses, they deserved a laugh. 

And then there was Pan. Not quite Merle's Pan, not ever, but it was nice to see him now and again. He didn't actually have any worshippers among the population, most of the planet's quiet, nomadic peoples preferred to pray to an obscure cloud-god, and Pan didn't mind. The change was nice, was all, and Pan liked stories, and, well, Merle had just about 50 of those to tell. 

Even so, it took months to work up the courage to bring it up.

"Hey, uh, Pan?"

There was a soft light as the god materialized near him, his snow-white haunches spotted with orange, rusty curls tied back in a ponytail. He never looked quite the same as Merle's Pan, but close enough that it stung, just a little.

"What's up, champ?" He still had that soft, lilting, almost-comical voice. That never seemed to change.

"What do you know about liches?" 

Pan clicked his teeth and shuffled his hooves uncomfortably. 

"Ooh, not really my jurisdiction on that one, to be honest. That's gritty stuff, though, Merle." A warning.

"I know, man." Merle looked down at his hands, painfully free of the scars he'd acquired on the journey, the burns and bruises of a thousand losses. They were the hands of a different dwarf, a younger one. Happier, maybe. 

"But . . . Pan, I'm the only healer we got, you know? And yeah, I'm a pretty shitty one, but--"

"Don't say that, Merle! Confidence is half the magic, buddy."

"Well, maybe that's my freakin’ problem, then. But Pan, I'm all they have. Sure, they got other magic, and first-aid kits an' shit, but when the Hunger gets here, I need to be there for them! Every time!"

Merle was getting animated now, his mind flashing unwillingly through death after death, blow after blow, every loss. Cities, continents going under. Magnus being torn apart, over and over again, putting himself between danger and anything he could save. Lucretia, falling, crumpling and not getting back up, giving in to the darkness one more time. Taako and Lup, back to back in the storm, projecting bravado and magic, teeth bared and bloody as they cleared the path, as they shoved the others towards safety and were swallowed whole. 

Davenport, counting heads and cursing when he came up short but never slowing, never stopping, his eyes hard as he stared down the hunger, ferrying whatever he could save to safety even as he was chased, overtaken, and lost. 

Barry. Eyes filled with hope to the last, certain that they would pull through, that they could win this one, by any means necessary, that each new experiment would be the best, the last, the one to save it all. 

And Merle, always Merle, just out of reach, out of range, out of spell slots. Always coming up short,  _ ha _ , or already gone, suspended in nothingness until someone escaped to tell the tale, or to shake their head, tight-lipped and hollow, and turn away when he asked.

"-And if I'm not there, Pan, if I'm just freakin'  _ not _ , then what's the  point _ _ of me?"

Pan nodded, solemnly, just as much of an answer as anything. 

"So you want to become a lich."

It was weird to hear it out loud, maybe weirder to hear it from a god, talking like a self-help book. Merle nodded. 

"Yeah. Yes." 

"To help your friends."

"Yeah,  _ god,  _ yeah. Pan, sorry."

“No, it's cool, I get it. And I get this whole lich thing too, Merle. It's . . . noble. And it's born of love, which I can understand."

Pan looked down at him with a funny expression, sad and proud and worried all at once.

"Thank you."

"You're your own dwarf, I mean. You don't need my blessing or anything--oh!"

Merle threw his arms around the god, a brief, tight, hug.

"I'm doing it tonight." He said it in a rush, unplanned, but as he did he knew it was true, needed it to be.

"Oh."

"I can't wait any longer, Pan, I can't see the future and I need--I need to be more. For them, for all of us." Merle's eyes stung, and his voice broke. He looked out at their field, far enough out from the ship that they probably wouldn't see anything, probably wouldn't even suspect. He was just Merle, after all. They could stand another night without him.

"I'll be there," promised Pan, softly. He laid a godly, freckled hand on Merle's shoulder, and Merle felt magic change hands, a warmth that felt like healing magic, although Merle had nothing that could be healed.

Night came sooner than he'd expected. He hadn't left the field, hadn't even said his goodbyes in case of a failure. It'd all shake out, right? He could always tell them he fell off a cliff or something. Wouldn't be too hard to believe.

A familiar light lit the flowers for a moment as Pan arrived, unreadable. 

"Your moment's here, little guy. You still sure about this?"

Merle laughed.

"Buddy, I haven't been sure about anything in fifty years. This is as close as I'm gonna get."

He started the spell.


	2. Chapter 2

The runes were shaky at first, then neater, brighter, blinding. Merle closed his eyes and let himself feel it, let himself hurt. He focused on his friends, on every time he failed them, every time they met his eyes, all of them knowing, already, just how too-late it was. 

Never again.

He held onto them tightly, furiously, cementing each memory in razor-sharp detail as he felt his magic swell, burning, tearing at him. It twisted and fused with the pain, a white-hot coal that spread out into him, and Merle rose, and his body fell.

_ Never again. _

He was coursing with power, all of him, power and an unbe_lievable _ measure of pain that only pushed him further. His whole field of vision was light, just light, and there was a constant, ragged noise that he realized, faintly, was his scream.

_ Never again never again never again never _ again.

Merle Highchurch rose, and burned, and screamed, light cascading off of him and searing the ground below--_sorry, Pan_, he thought, briefly, before that too was drowned out by nothing and everything, and ah, shit, he'd probably fucked this up because he was far too out of control.

And then there was another voice, soft and musical, and a hand, cool, blessedly cool on his shoulder.

"Hey, Merle. It's time to come down now. You can open your eyes."

He couldn't, not at first, but as he did he saw a familiar face. Pan was floating with him, wreathed in light. Pan moved to hold his hands--were they hands? Merle felt his stomach, or whatever was there in place of one, lurch as he saw his skeletal fingers.

Gently, like he was afraid the dwarf would fall apart, Pan guided him back to the ground. He settled slowly, awkwardly, back into his body, reassuringly heavy once again. 

"Holy shit, Merle. Are you . . . are you good?"

He pulled himself to his feet. He felt . . . different. There was a new charge running through him now, not the usual, reliable feel of Pan's magic. This was _ his _, wild and unfamiliar as it was, at his fingertips, and damn, it was strong. 

He gave a shaky chuckle, flexing his fingers.

"I'm something, alright." 

Merle cast light, on a whim, and his hand went off like a flashbulb. He stumbled back instinctively, exhilarated and blinded. 

"Hell _ yeah _." 

Even Pan stopped, momentarily, to blink the afterimage out of his holy eyes.

Merle swayed and collapsed, not unconscious, but suddenly far too weak to get back up. Damn near _ everything _ hurt, like his body wasn’t convinced he belonged in it. In a second Pan's arms were under him, lifting him effortlessly.

"Let's put a damper on that good stuff for now, my man. C'mon. It's time for you to go home."

The Starblaster glowed, warmly, in the distance. Safe. And Merle agreed.


End file.
